Leader
by Chevy Nova
Summary: As Splinter muses over the four young creatures whose lives now depend solely on him for survival, the importance of choosing one among them to lead has begun to grow heavy on his mind. However, he is beginning to realize this decision to be far more difficult than he'd ever anticipated. [One-Shot]


Leader

**Author's Note: **My first ever one-shot, as well as my first 'turtle tot' piece. I have been mulling over this little story for quite some time now, and am happy to finally share it. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the TMNT, make no profit from this story and write purely for enjoyment of the series.

-oOo-

With a well-deserved sigh, Splinter eased himself back into the worn and patched up cushions of his favorite, albeit only, sitting chair. His chair, of course no more than four or five mismatched cushions strategically placed in the cut out remains of a thrown out washing machine box, cradled him like an old friend, and the aging rat flexed his toes as the pulsing tension began to seep out of his worn paws.

He could not remember ever particularly feeling the effects of his waning age when he had been no more than a mere pet rat tucked away in the safety of his old cage. Yet he reminded himself those days were further in his past than they sometimes seemed. Already a number of years had passed since that first day he had found himself wandering alone in the dank sewers of New York, just as those four baby turtles he had fated upon were no longer the tiny infants he once knew.

A smile twitched at Splinter's whiskers as he closed his eyes. Indeed, he knew it was quite the serious matter his four sons knew he was well aware that they were no longer babies. Almost half his height, the energetic toddlers exceeded his expectations by the day, and Splinter was beginning to uncover the powerful dynamic the four of them held as a team. Of course, this dynamic would never mature to its full potential without proper guidance, as danger lurked in the shadows, threatening to destroy them at every turn. Yet it had begun to trouble Splinter as he was growing ever more away that such perils awaited not only from the outside world, but stirred within the hearts of each turtle as well.

Like any father, Splinter knew time would not stand still for him, or his peculiar family. From the moment the infantile creatures had shown signs of higher intelligence, Splinter had begun teaching them the vital techniques of self-defense. This had long since ceased to be enough to quell their growing minds and bodies, yet Splinter had found himself hesitant to continue their education.

He was troubled the most when he found himself alone in those rare, precious moments of quiet. Now was he alone with his thoughts, when the four toddlers had at last succumbed to the lulls of sleep and the constant banter of who pinched whom and who needed a glass of water or why was Michelangelo sleeping on the softest pillow for the third night in a row had at last faded away. For he knew it was an issue he knew he needed to face sooner rather than later, as the very lives of his family grew ever dependent on it. If his four young wards were to ever completely function as a team, a leader among them must be chosen.

Splinter exhaled slowly, focusing on the strained and tired muscles of his shoulders and back. Already he felt them tightening as the nagging question entered his thoughts once more, yet this time he was unable to push it away. Already the turtles had begun a silent, sibling sort of rivalry amongst themselves, and Splinter knew without a designated order to things, their competitive desires in individual improvement would eventually scatter their group relationship indefinitely.

Yet Splinter could not imagine how to possibly choose amongst them. He treasured his sons equally, and each of their unique talents and strengths had already proven why any one of them would excel as a leader. The endurance of Leonardo, the passion of Raphael, the intelligence of Donatello, and the vibrancy of Michelangelo. He had no way of placing one above the other, though he could not deny the dire reality that his sons needed proper guidance from within themselves.

He supposed his initial instinct, even before he had placed any serious weight on the issue, had been toward Leonardo. Although Splinter had no absolute way of knowing, Leonardo's maturation from the mutagen ooze had occurred considerably quicker than his brothers, giving the emerald green turtle a significant advantage over them as being the eldest. Whether or not that was true, it made no difference now as it had easily been accepted as fact amongst the five of them, and this alone offered Leonardo an unspoken respect from the younger three. Splinter suspected such a position had a built in sense of responsibility over the group from Leonardo himself as well.

Already Leonardo's age had encouraged within him a handful of the required attributes of a great leader, of which Splinter was very much attuned. Leonardo had taken to his role as the oldest rather seriously from the very beginning, and he prided himself in this image of reliability that accompanied it. Splinter could sense Leonardo's heightening awareness of his surroundings, as he kept a constant eye one his brothers and grew troubled when one was out of sight.

Splinter hoped to encourage these behaviors in the young turtle, and already Leonardo had taken to his daily training with more concentration and vigor than any of the others, further reassuring Splinter's hopeful decision. Ever diligent at whatever new obstacle fell before him, he possessed a persistence Splinter hoped Leonardo could inspire within his brothers. Yet in the back of his mind, Splinter knew it was his same deep rooted desire for perfection which could cause the deepest cracks between Leonardo and his siblings.

Although the oldest turtle had rightfully earned his place among the group as the highest skilled in his combat techniques through constant hard work and training, Splinter was not aloof to Leonardo's own battles with his pride. The he reminded himself the turtle was yet still very young, and a heightened sense of self superiority was expected of one his age, Splinter could not ignore that such a budding egotism was a crippling factor of any potential leader.

At times Leonardo's thoroughness would slip into obsession, and more than once Splinter was forced to put a stop to his endless training. Although there was hope yet in shaping this self-important attitude, Splinter knew how easily it could forge a chasm between Leonardo's relationships with his brothers, a distance forged of arrogance, conceit and envy. Already Splinter could see such a rift forming between Leonardo and his second eldest, Raphael, and it troubled the aging rat deeply as the two grew ever more antagonistic.

With a sigh, Splinter shifted where he sat, repositioning the cushion under his left elbow, and his eyes opened as his ear twitched to the sound of crinkling paper. Perking up, Splinter reached over and pulled the cushion away. His face instantly softened and he gave a soft chuckle as he pulled out the empty sugar candy wrappers that had been stashed there.

Only Raphael would hide the evidence of eating his candy before Thanksgiving in his Sensei's very own sitting chair. He wondered how Raphael had managed to find the hidden sweets in the first place, and Splinter had the strong suspicion Donatello had aided him and any second now he would find chocolate candy wrappers guiltily stashed from sight as well. Splinter would never have guessed turtles could have any sort of sweet tooth, though his two middle sons had proved such an assumption wrong very early in life.

Still smiling to himself, Splinter gathered up the wrappers. Although the young turtle would receive a firm lecture in the morning about the importance of following the rules, Splinter knew it was exactly Raphael's daring and powerful nature he could already sense brewing within the young ninja which propelled him just as easily into the role of an effective leader. Of the four, Splinter had discerned an intensity within Raphael none of his brothers could rival. Despite his growing competition with his older brother, Raphael's devotion to his family at times startled Splinter, and every now and then he wondered if the young turtle even understood the force of his own emotions.

Unlike his elder brother, Raphael's constant striving for improvement in his training and skills were not fueled for his own, personal purposes, but rather for the sake of his brothers. Splinter had easily marked him as a protector to the core; the fiery tempered terrapin had proven him right from the beginning, and he still had the scar on his right paw, of a very angry baby turtle standing guard before his brothers, to prove it.

Already Raphael's physical prowess had far exceeded his two younger brothers, and Splinter expected it to permanently overtake Leonardo's in no more than a couple of years. His build alone promised a resilient warrior, and coupled with his fierce loyalty of his brothers, he promised a protective force field around the group.

Pulling himself up from his pillows and stretching himself from nose to tail, Splinter stepped out of his makeshift chair. He bunched the empty candy wrappers up in his paw, staring at them for a moment before shaking his head. Although Raphael guaranteed a defensive and dedicated leader, Splinter also knew it was the young turtle's greatest attributes which also proved to be his greatest downfall.

Already Raphael's unquenchable spirit was difficult to manage and he more often than not partook in his own personal philosophy of "fight first, ask questions later." Although Splinter would never exchange Raphael's zealous attitude no matter how trying it sometimes came to be, he did not know how long it would take the young one to learn to control his emotions, and it was a risk he worried was too dangerous to take for the entire family.

Still shaking his head, Splinter stepped over to the small plastic bag shoved in the corner of the makeshift home the five mutants shared. He found it so very human of them to designate a place for their garbage despite living in a sewer.

He untied the knot at the top in order to drop in the wrappers, but paused when he looked inside. They didn't exactly have a lot of garbage to begin with and the empty chocolate bar wrappers inside the bag stood out like a sore thumb. So he had been right. Donatello had been on Raphael's little candy stealing expedition all along. Leave it to his second youngest to throw away the evidence against him in its proper place. Splinter lifted one furry brow as he began to tie the bag back up again. Or perhaps Donatello had assumed no one would think to look for them in the one place they should be.

It was exactly this sort of roundabout way of thinking which had intrigued Splinter ever since the turtle's had first begun to speak. Donatello had been the only one to take any sort of interest in the old book of Renaissance painters of which he had been named from, and his vocabulary had grown at an almost alarming rate. Lacking in either Leonardo's budding narcissism and Raphael's quick temper, Donatello's inquisitive nature was always quick to shoe-horn him back into Splinter's mind as another strong candidate as an effective leader.

He offered the hope of a new type of security for his brothers which agreed with Splinter's inherent desire to keep his family out of sight. Splinter knew the human world was rapidly shifting around them in ways his old, tired mind was too exhausted to keep up with. Although Donatello seemed to have a thirst for going topside which rivaled Raphael's, his aim seemed purely for anything he could explore with his mind, rather than seeking any type of interaction with the humans Splinter was so deeply wary of.

Donatello demanded intellectual stimulants just as much as his brothers demanded physical ones, and Splinter was all too willing to encourage the toddler's mental growth to the best of his own ability. Although initially concerned too little exercise would hamper Donatello's bodily growth, seeing as the curious turtle was already of a slighter build than his brothers, Splinter was finding Donatello's small size an advantage for the young ninja. Already he was proving himself to be not only the fastest amongst his brothers, but the stealthiest as well as his petite stature offered him an edge his larger brothers could not rival.

Although Splinter hoped his sons would never be forced into such a situation, Donatello's calculating mind and strengths in concealment rather than blunt force, gave him a unique advantage over his brothers. He knew with time and proper encouragement, Donatello held the potential as a leader who could cloak them under a defensive shield of technology and secrecy.

Yet it was exactly this high level of mystery which always seemed to shroud Donatello that concerned Splinter the most. Although not particularly quiet, especially around his youngest brother, Donatello somehow seemed to give off the impression of not really saying much of anything at all. The patience of his brothers had long since waned as he babbled on for hours on end, yet his siblings' disinterest only seemed to push the young terrapin further into the recluse of his own interests. Though Splinter would never doubt the strong bonds of brotherly love Donatello had for his brothers, he somehow lacked the ability to outwardly show them, or any strong emotions for that matter.

The elderly rat knew sooner or later Donatello's cold, introverted attitude would sever his ties with his brothers if he did not learn how to communicate with them. It troubled Splinter how Donatello's aloofness was so similar, yet so much the opposite of Raphael's fiery spirit. As the elder struggled to contain the swirling emotions inside of him, Donatello had already learned to bottle them up so tightly inside Splinter feared what would happen once that bottle would inevitably break and consume him entirely.

At times Splinter even toyed with the thought of choosing both Raphael and Donatello as the designated leaders of the group. Not only did Raphael's passionate emotions and physical dexterity compliment Donatello's advanced, deliberate mind and craftiness of skill, the two shared an interesting dynamic outside of training as well.

Splinter attributed their unique balance to "middle child syndrome", yet even he could sense how it extended beyond that. It was growing increasingly clear how Raphael seemed to be the only who really understood what Donatello was ever trying to say, just as Donatello was the only one Raphael accepted to be around him no matter what his mood was like. They certainly made a formidable team in stealing the last of Splinter's candy stash, that much was for sure.

Splinter flattened his ears before shaking his head, already knowing such ideas were folly. Though Raphael and Donatello were undoubtedly useful tools in helping one another grow and mature, he knew such a team was not what the group needed in order to survive. They needed one leader, one guide.

He turned and gazed over at the dark blue blanket draped over a linen rope, which separated him from the single mattress the four small turtles shared. He could see their shadows, illuminated against the wall from a dull glowing battery powered lamp. He honestly did wonder how Michelangelo had managed to snag the least moth eaten pillow for the third night in a row, and he smiled to himself when he realized that was a knack only his youngest son seemed to have.

Splinter paused just outside the blanket and continued to stare fondly at the shadows, stopping at the one at the very end, closest to the lamp. True, he knew in the morning he would hear no end of as to how the youngest turtle had managed to trick his brothers once again, yet Splinter knew that Michelangelo's only trickery was his natural ability to charm his way through just about anything.

And while Splinter always had to ensure he was not simply being fooled himself into thinking his youngest son held the abilities of becoming a strong leader for his brothers, he knew Michelangelo's charisma and energy would someday prove more useful and important than his initial instincts may have first suggested. For although Splinter hoped and intended to hide himself and his family away from the human world for the entirety of their lives, Splinter knew he could not fully predict for such things. He was already old, yet it gnawed at him that his sons still had so much life left to live, so much opportunity, if only the world could learn to accept them.

Although Splinter would never stop teaching them of the dangers of humans and those who feared their strangeness, he still allowed the small flame of hope to burn inside of him that someday things would be different for his family. If such a change were to ever occur, he knew it would be Michelangelo's inherently human desire for friendship which would be the only link to truly bridge the gap between their worlds.

Splinter did not know if it was purely Michelangelo's perceived extreme youth which encouraged his brothers to protect his innocence which led to his light-hearted optimism and near naiveté, or if the young turtle's mind was naturally wired to seek out only the good in life and those around him. Forced into an existence filled with shadows and paranoia, Splinter wondered if a leader such as Michelangelo would be the turtles' only relief in bringing any sort of genuine light into their lives.

The brothers were skillfully learning already how to use one another to hone their skills, yet Splinter knew how easily they would waste away without any true happiness to fill their souls. However, even Michelangelo was delicate in this sense, and Splinter was unsure if the young turtle's laughter and joy could last in the long run if he was placed into such a position which would force him to lead his brothers down the darker and painful path required of them.

A small sneeze snapped Splinter from his thoughts as he watched the bundle of blankets begin to shift. He did not move the blanket, not wanting to wake them, but instead focused on the distinct sounds of their breathing, a fierce tug of protectiveness swelling in his chest. How much they depended on him. How much they depended on one another. In the morning he would have his decision.

"Dream well, my sons."


End file.
